Beautiful People
by GuTTerArT
Summary: A game designed to kill time and relinquish boredom gets Alan Shore to thinking and helps him to conclude a trial that would otherwise have resulted in failure. Can one word really affect the verdict?


**Beautiful People**

**Summary**: A game designed to kill time and relinquish boredom gets Alan Shore to thinking and helps him to conclude a trial that would otherwise have resulted in failure. Can one word really effect the verdict? AU Ficlette.

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**Disclaimer**: Characters of Boston Legal belong solely to the guy that made 'em. 

**A/N**: This is my first attempt to portray Alan Shore, a most intimidating and prestigious character to write. I was inspired by his closing in one of the last episodes of "The Practice" for which James Spader one an Emmy. Congratulations Mr. Spader. But I'm afraid I've now gone and had a go of it myself. This is the result. My characterisation might be a little ... weak. I tried to get as much Alanites in there as possible. Not sure if I pulled it off, you tell me.

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The pages of the dictionary on the table were flippantly tossed from side to side as the wind rattled them precariously. They paused aimlessly on a random, designless leaf and Alan ran his finger down the side, eyes closed and mind partially occupied for a while. Stopping somewhere near the bottom of the page, he glanced down and read the word his wandering finger was nearest to. He smirked wryly to himself. 

"Beauty is such a lacking thing."

Alan Shore was standing in front of the jury in the courthouse, doing what it was he did best. His job.

"Of course, if you wanted to be sentimental and revive Woodstock, you could say that everything in the world is beautiful because God simply," he held up his hands pragmatically, "made it that way. You could say that the colour of the sky or the sound of a waterfall was indeed the most glorious thing you had ever encountered," he sounded fanciful as he said it, gazing just beyond the jury in a quixotic fashion. He blinked, brought back his focus upon the members of the jury and pointed both index fingers. "But, ladies and gentleman, this is the harsh reality. Nothing is beautiful. Nothing is sacred. And certainly, nothing can save this," he gestured emphatically towards the man at the table, sitting nervously with hands clasped together, "young boy, nay, man, from a lifetime of imprisonment for a crime he did not commit."

Elegantly and with a sweeping wave of his hand he turned again to look at the twelve people sitting, watching and hanging onto his every word.

"Except you." A pause as he allowed it to sink in. "You are one of God's true miracles. Perhaps the only thing He ever got right. Human compassion is a beautiful thing. One of those rare aspects of life that does indeed hold any merit in this world that is otherwise lacking."

Once again he turned towards the young caucasian man uncomfortably shifting in the new suit, his voice faintly accusing. "My client didn't have that. He was orphaned as a young child, he lived on the street for the better part of his childhood and adult life, he was involved early in drugs with no one to dispense treatment. None of these are excuses for such actions, I'm not condoning that. But he has no actions to defend. He was alone. And on the day that he needed someone the most, who's there for him? No one in this courtroom has ever spoken to him before. Before this trial no one even knew his name. Not me, not you." He took a few paces forward, urging them to understand.

"But now we know. You know that he is incapable of such a heinous crime. For that reason you must find him not guilty. Can you truly believe _beyond all reasonable_ _doubt_ that my client raped and murdered a prostitute in Boston common?" Taking in a deep breath he retreated again to enlarge the gap between himself and the jury, before continuing and gesturing towards the prosecution.

"Let's look at the facts. No eyewitnesses. Fabricated forensic evidence that's," a harsh, emotionless bark of laughter, "whimsical at best. And no motive or reasoning as to why. A _true_ killer, the one still at large as we sit here in this courtroom, could even be in this building at this very moment, nearly always has a history of violent behaviour or an ulterior motive. Neither are present in this case."

"Beyond all reasonable doubt?" He asked matter-of-factly, shaking his head as he did so. "My client is a beautiful person. He is, without a doubt, one of the few genuine people I have met in my profession. He has issues of course, as do I. As I'm sure many of you do. It's what makes us human. It's what makes us beautiful. Our dysfunctional qualities, our compassion, our ability to empathise with our fellow man. That is what's truly glorious in this world.

Don't incarcerate that beauty. In that way, we're surely not lacking. In that way we are perfect."


End file.
